


Are You There?

by alicekittridge



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Divergence?, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, I have sinned and am dragging you all down to hell with me too, POV Second Person, Phone Sex, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 05:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18866710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicekittridge/pseuds/alicekittridge
Summary: "It's a little early for bed, don't you think?"





	Are You There?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yotoob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yotoob/gifts).



> You've read the tags. You know what this is. 
> 
> This was gonna be a chapter in "A Congregation of Birds" but then I decided it was special enough to get its own slot. If you haven't seen 2x07, please refrain from reading this, as this was based explicitly (ha) off that but is a slight divergence. For those of you who have seen it, welcome, enjoy, I dedicate this to both you and me, and our collective deaths.

_“Are you there?”_

“Yeah,” you say, putting the phone back to your ear. “Sorry I was—”

            _“Where were you?”_

“Brushing my teeth.” You pull on pajama pants and you hear rustling sheets on the other end of the phone.

            _“It’s a little early for bed, don’t you think?”_ Villanelle sounds… relaxed. Lazy, almost, but nothing short of alert. And then you realize there’s a hint of suggestion in her voice. You settle on your own sheets, thankful that Hugo is out wherever he is—getting gelato, maybe, or a late-night pizza—and you ask, softly, “What are you doing?”

            _“Mulling over the fact that Mr. English Know-It-All likes to watch me eat.”_

“Do you think he gets off on it?”

            Villanelle scoffs. _“It’s a very weird kink.”_

“Maybe he’s just thinking of what your mouth can do.”

            _“Do you think about that, Eve?”_ she asks, her voice lower now, firm in the way it almost always is when she asks a question, but breathy. You don’t answer but you know it’s _yes_. Villanelle exhales a long breath and continues, _“I do. I think of what it would feel like to kiss you.”_ A soft rustle of sheets, and then a barely-stifled gasp. Your own heart leaps sharply with the knowledge that you know exactly what she’s doing. _“I think of all the places you could kiss me, if you wanted.”_

“What are you doing?” you whisper. You long to throw open a shutter, or turn the fan on, but you’re rooted to the bed, your phone hand shaking, your free hand gripping the top sheet on the bed.

            _“What are_ you _doing?”_ Villanelle counters. _“Anything productive?”_

Your mind slips down the gutter, projecting images of Villanelle in bed, her hand under the sheets and between her thighs but then switching to her naked underneath you, and you picturing the places you want to kiss. _Her neck, her collarbones, her breasts, her hips…_

You stutter, “Thinking… w-where I’d… kiss you.”

            She inhales. _“Tell me.”_

You collapse heavily against the pillows, trying to breathe calmly. “Your neck.”

            _“Good choice.”_

“You like it?”

            _“It’s a good way to get me to rip your clothes off.”_

A shaky breath escapes of its own accord. You clap your hand over your mouth, whisper, “Fuck…”

            You swear Villanelle stops breathing for a moment. _“Are you doing it?”_

“W-what?”

            _“It’s not as fun when it’s one-sided.”_

Another wave of heat passes over you and your phone slips in your hand. You won’t dare to put it on speaker; you don’t know how thin the walls are. You tighten your grip on it and slide a little further in the bed, undoing the drawstring of your pants with your free hand. You spread your knees, caress the exposed skin above your waistband before letting your hand disappear. Your head falls back at the first touch. Your fingers slide so easily… “Fuck,” you say, and she responds with a moan.

            _“Is it still-one sided?”_ she asks.

            “N…No.”

            _“What are you thinking?”_

“This is really… fucking stupid.”

            _“You don’t mean that.”_

Your hips twitch against your palm. It takes all your courage to tell her, “I… I want you to… kiss me.”

            Her breathing is quicker. You think you hear soft, wet sounds on her end. _“Where, Eve?”_

You shake your head. Your own rhythm’s properly started now.

            _“Lips?”_

“…yes.”

            _“Neck?”_

“T-that too.”

            _“Breasts?”_

You shudder audibly. “I’d kiss you there too.”

            There’s a smile in her voice when she breathes, _“I knew you liked my tits.”_

You laugh, listen to her breathe for a moment, slide a finger slowly inside.

            _“Do you want me inside you, Eve?”_

Oh, god… “Yes.”

            She moans. _“I imagine you inside me. More than my head. I’m picturing it right now.”_

You turn your head to the side to muffle the groan in the pillow and she scolds you, _“Don’t hold back on me.”_

“Sorry…”

            _“I’d go down on you.”_

“Oh, fuck…” Her boldness shouldn’t be surprising in this context but it is; it makes you rub harder. You’d imagine it sometimes, alone or in bed with Niko, her mouth between your thighs, sometimes teasing you, other times getting straight to the point and you’d come in four minutes against your hand and her imagined, full lips.

            _“I want to feel you… while I do it.”_ Her breathing is so heavy, and her moans are fucking unreal, like fucking angels’ trumpets. And the wet sounds…

            “Shit,” you say. “Yeah…” You can imagine her tongue, how skilled it would be, the strokes she’d lave over you, how she’d find that sensitive part of you and tease it, suck it…

            _“Eve…”_ She sounds close. You think you might be too. _“Shit, Eve…”_

You screw your eyes closed. Think of all the things you want. _Kiss you senseless. Fuck me until I have to push you away. Wish my hand was yours. Or your mouth._

She comes. It’s a soft but stilted series of moans and gasps, sounding almost like she’s in pain. You follow her, cursing, curling up into the hologram of her body, the speaker of your phone pressed into the corner of your mouth—a poor substitute for her ear.

            In the minute that follows, aftershocks wrack your body, and then you’re finally still, coming back to earth. Your body is sweaty; your clothes cling uncomfortably to you. You pull your hand from your ruined pants and wipe it on the sheets while Villanelle is undoubtedly licking her own clean.

            _“You should talk out loud more often,”_ Villanelle says.

            You nearly slam your head into the pillow. “Goddammit.”

            Villanelle chuckles. A genuine chuckle, something happy. _“It’s OK. I liked it.”_

You smile. “Yeah. I could tell.”

            _“Are you tired?”_

Your body does feel heavy, but in a completely good way. “Exhausted.”

            Villanelle hums. You don’t think you’ve heard her voice this soft before. Not with whatever emotion is in it right now. She says, _“Put your pants on and go to bed. I will see you tomorrow.”_

“Goodnight,” you murmur, and only have the strength to hang up and kick your pants to the floor before a strange, calm sleep overtakes you completely.


End file.
